


The Hiring Fair

by DaisyNinjaGirl



Series: The Tenner [10]
Category: The Hiring Fair - Fairport Convention (Song)
Genre: F/M, True lust versus true love - does it really matter which?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-10
Updated: 2020-06-10
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:55:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24653464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DaisyNinjaGirl/pseuds/DaisyNinjaGirl
Summary: Day Five - Before the StormThe young maid who had toiled there a year worked next to the young man who loved her, and she smiled at him.
Relationships: The Girl From The Hiring Fair/Narrator
Series: The Tenner [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1680610
Comments: 2
Kudos: 1
Collections: The Tenner





	The Hiring Fair

_When the guests of the house next saw Mr Farthing, he was atop the roof of that strange manor. He gazed at the dark clouds rushing across the black forest, his eyes eager, his face intent. The more observant noticed that his hands gripped the stone parapet with rigid clawed fingers. He started when he realised he had company._

_“Well,” he said. “Well, well, it is my turn for a story I think. Let me tell you of those of humble life.”_

**The Hiring Fair**

Once, in the days when the fate of a peasant was most times to work the land of someone or other, but never his own, there was a young man who sought work at a Hiring Fair. He was a stout lad, nicely raised, but he had nine brothers and so his parents could not afford to feed him past the age of maturity. He waited patiently in a line with other young folk looking for honest work, holding a grain flail to show his trade, and sneaking glances at the young woman next to him, who shyly held a broom.

A farmer walked up and watched the lad silently for a few minutes. He asked questions about the boy’s home, and his strength, and did he say his prayers every night? The boy stuttered a few words and was glad to fall silent as the girl next to him was questioned in her turn. The farmer handed both of them the bright ribbons of hire, and the young man’s heart leapt - both because he was glad of the work, and because the young woman had been hired as well. On the cart ride to their new home, he was desperately shy, and held his hat in his hands, his heart in his boots, his head hung low, trying to think of words to say to this woman, for she was very beautiful. Or at least, her smile was very beautiful and as we all know, a kind heart eclipses coronets. The young man could only tug his forelock as he had been taught by his father and hope.

It was a well run farm. The young labourers and the young maids were kept well apart, for the farmer had a concern that his maids’ waists might be thickened without a promise of support. He was a fair master: he expected a good day’s labour, but he fed his workers well, and spoke kindly when they did well, more kindly when an honest mistake had been made. Do not bind the mouths of the kine, as one might say.

Months of autumn and then of winter went by, for the fair had been at Michaelmas, and the farmer had needed strong backs to plant the seed for the next year. Through the cold snows, the young man smiled shyly at the maid who had stood by him at the fair, but the words stuck in his throat and even the humble words “as you wish” did not escape.

Spring came and with it the lambing, small lives born in an unthrifty season. Bright golden summer when the sun’s heat lay heavy over the fields, and the workers staggered in from their fields to leap laughing into the swimming hole of the nearby river. “To wash off the dirt” as the farmer said, with a wry look.

The grain the young man had planted grew ripe and heavy and golden, no heavier than his silent love and then, then came the harvest.

It is a gentle balance for those who work the land. One waits until the corn is ripe, but not a day more than needed, for the autumn storms destroy much in their wake. In that week of the harvest, all hands were in the fields, men and women together, even the house cats were rousted out to the fields where they patrolled back and forth hungrily in search of fleeing rats. The young maid who had toiled there a year worked next to the young man who loved her, and she smiled at him. They worked well together - the one scything wheat with great strokes, the other gathering it into careful stooks. As the workers reached the middle of the afternoon, they looked up at the sky and shuddered for great dark clouds were rolling in. Had the farmer waited too late? He was an honest master, and so hired honest workers, and their efforts redoubled, stroke on stroke, grindstones whetting tools, sheaves of grain gathered. At last, as the sun went down, the last stook was lifted into the cart and the harvest doll was raised in after, and a great cheer went up from the workers as the first drops of rain fell on their heads.

“To dinner!” the master shouted, and they cheered again.

The young man looked at the young woman and smiled, very sweetly, but words failed him. But yet, kindness is worth more than coronets, and an honest eye can see an honest man. As the other labourers limped to the farmhouse looking for their deserved feast, the girl took the man’s hand and shook her head. She led him into a nearby barn that was fragrant with hay and the warm breath of goats, and held his hand to her breast.

This was all before the storm.

“During the storm,” _Edward’s eyes gleamed. “Listener, they knew each other.”_

_The first drops of rain spattered down on his head and he shuddered. “Come, let us go in from the rain.”_


End file.
